Why Knot
by Caelta
Summary: Doctor Leonard H. McCoy and Christine Chapel find themselves alone together, bound to two trees in the middle of a dangerous and foreign jungle.


A/N: This is entirely a dialogue fic, mostly because I've been experimenting with that in the last couple months. So even if it's completely ridiculous, it was still a whole bunch of fun to write! And major kudos to anyone who can tell me what McCoy's middle name is, because for the life of me I cannot find out what the 'H' stands for. Reviews are love! Cheers!

Disclaimer: I promise I don't own Star Trek, because if I did I would have done all sorts of twisted, evil, and delicious things to the plot.

* * *

"Doctor McCoy."

"…ugh…"

"Doctor."

"Mm…"

"Leonard."

"Wh—Good Lord, woman! God _damn_. What in blazes was that for?"

"I needed to wake you up _somehow_."

"By _spitting_ on me, Christine?"

"If you haven't noticed, we're strapped to two trees in the middle of the jungle. My hands are a bit tied."

"No, really? I had no _idea_. I have a kink in my neck the size of the Polaris galaxy."

"Well then perhaps you shouldn't have fallen asleep."

"And what, exactly, do you propose I do? Wait to get eaten by one of the resident animals when the sun goes down, wait four days without food or water until the Enterprise gets back—supposing we last more than three hours—or wait for the welcoming natives to come back and practice some more voodoo on us? Not a lot of options we have here."

"You could sing a song with me while we wait."

"If you sing _Beyond the Sea_ one more time, I will personally give you the worst last few hours of your life imaginable."

"What, are you going to throw tree bark at me?"

"I might. …ugh. I can feel it dripping down my face."

"Excuse me for attempting to mitigate the situation. I can't do much without your help."

"You can't do much _with_ my help, Christine. We're in the middle of a damn jungle, and neither of us can move. _Damn_ my nose itches."

"Well, at least one of us is—Oh my God, what is that?"

"What's what?"

"I-I don't know! This big, fat purple…_bug_ that's—Oh, God, it's crawling towards me. Oh, eew, what if it goes in my ear?"

"Beats the hell outta me. Looks like a caterpillar. Blow on it."

"Oh my God, it's coming closer. Leonard, do something!"

"What the hell do you want me to do? Throw tree bark at it?"

"Yes!"

"Christine, Lord, that thing's nowhere near you. Calm down, woman."

"But what if it's poisonous? What if it decides to shoot some weird bug-fluid at me, and I break out in hives and die?"

"Listen to me. That bug is ridiculously not close to you. Christine, that thing is a good two miles from your ear. Just because it's purple does not mean it's poisonous. And if it is, well, we're gonna die anyway."

"Leonard, you are the _worst_ motivational speaker I have ever met in my life."

"That's why I get paid to be a doctor, sweetheart."

"You could be a little nicer to your patients, too, you know."

"Nice? I have all the Southern charm in the world."

"When you want to, and maybe when you get coffee. I don't know how you stand it black, though."

"…how do you know how I take my coffee?"

"Who else do you think makes it for you and sets it on your desk in the morning? Did you think it just magically transported there, all on its own?"

"I…geez, Christine, I'm sorry; I never thought about it, I guess. …what else do you do for me that I don't know about?"

"I sign your release papers when you're busy. I take inventory myself, by hand. I've vouched for you more times than I can count, every time you miss an informational meeting. Do you ever wonder why no one's ever found and made a complaint about your little alcohol reserve down in sickbay? Who do you think tells Joanna, when her daddy's planet-side for days on end and can't talk to her? Who do you think saves you the cheese danishes at conferences?"

"That was _you_? …I always thought no one wanted them."

"Oh, they're in very high demand. I mean, you have to be kidding me about the mixed nuts. Who would pick mixed nuts over a cheese danish?"

"Good point."

"Yeah."

"…Aw, hell, Christine. I…I really had no idea. I guess saying thanks would be a little late now, huh?"

"Just a little."

"Better late than never?"

"Not quite."

"Damn. I'm so sorry, Christine. Just tell me what you want."

"I want to get the hell out of here."

"Alright. How tight are your ropes?"

"Tighter than Nyota and Spock on wedding night. And yours?"

"A pretty tight fit if I don't say so myself, being their medical examiner and all. But, it's worked before. I'm just worried about the effects on the second generation. Don't want them turning out like mules. Yeah, my ropes aren't much better."

"I wouldn't be worried about the baby, if I were you; I'd be worried about everyone _else_. Especially poor Spock."

"Why's that?"

"Vulcan emotions are more virulent and potent than any emotion a human could ever experience; that's why they're so good at controlling them. That's why they have to control them in the first place. Nyota told me herself. So if you think a _human_ pregnancy has mood swings…well. And I can only imagine what she's going to want to eat, with that interracial breeding going on."

"Remind me to steer clear of that wreck. …hey, didn't you used to like Spock?"

"I did."

"…well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, what changed?"

"Nothing changed."

"Aw, c'mon, Christine. I know you better than that. How many times have I patiently sat through one of your rants about Vulcan? You know I don't like that pointy-eared hopgoblin. The last thing I'd want to do is listen to a lecture about his history, for God's sakes."

"Oh, _God_, I _was_ ranting, wasn't I? Oh…Leonard, I—"

"No need for apologies, hun. I just want to know what happened, is all."

"I…guess I just realized the nature of it…of my infatuation…when I saw them together and saw how serious they were. I mean, it was always a lost cause. Not only is he Vulcan, but…falling for one of your best friend's men is never cool. And, well…yeah."

"And, well, what?"

"Nothing."

"_Christine._"

"What?"

"…Christine, not only do I have the letters M and D subsequent to my name, but I've done a fair amount of psychology. It's someone else, isn't it? There's another guy in the picture."

"I…guess you could say that."

"It's not the bastard that you were engaged to that up and left you for another planet, is it? If it is, I swear—"

"No—_God_, no. It's not him. I ended that ages ago. Half-crazed Romulans and the destruction of entire planets due to a disruption in the space-time continuum have a way of widening a girl's perspective."

"Good. Alright. …how long've you had your eye on this kid?"

"Well, he's…he's hardly a kid. A few months now, I guess."

"Honey, when you get to be my age, your wife's divorced you, and your best friend is a first-class lunatic, everyone starts lookin' like a kid. Does he know?"

"You aren't so old, Leonard. You just like to act like it. No, he doesn't know."

"Well there's your first problem. Why _doesn't_ he know? Don't be givin' me any of that demure attitude, now. Christine, you're the best head nurse I've ever seen, it's been a pleasure working with you, and you'd make a fine doctor one day. You've got a good head on your shoulders, a nice set of morals, you're thoughtful, you're _gorgeous_, and I'll be damned if this kid doesn't melt in his boots when you flash those pretty blue eyes at him and smile."

"…oh…"

"What's so funny? Why are you giggling? What could _possibly—_"

"I just witnessed one of the most intimidating doctors in this galaxy give the most heartfelt speech I've ever received."

"Oh, Lord. We're on the brink of death, either by cannibalistic savages, starvation, or a hungry alien life form. I hardly think—are you _blushing_?"

"No! It's sunburn."

"Christine, you're under a _tree_."

"I have delicate skin."

"…right. Do I know him?"

"…um…"

"Is he in medical?"

"…yes."

"Ah. He's not all bad, then. Least I can keep my eye on him, make sure he treats you like a lady."

"_Leonard!_"

"If you think I won't take the first opportunity to rough this kid up if he so much as touches my best nurse, you've got another thing comin'."

"I hardly think that's necessary. …did you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"…that."

"Dammit! On top of everything, _rain_?"

"Ugh, I need to pee."

"Yeah, me too. Can't say this rain helps much."

"Oh, God. Leonard. I…this isn't…it's always you or Jim or Spock that gets into these situations, and… I know that somehow you end up reinventing the wheel to get out of them, and it's always at the last possible second. I can't do this. I'm sick of narrow escape margins. I'm sick of waiting, and not knowing, and…oh, God…what if we're actually going to die…what if…"

"_Damn_ you, woman, now is _not_ the time to start crying!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I…oh, _God_."

"Would you _quit_ saying that?"

"_Leonard_…"

"Aw, hell, Christine…don't you _dare_ start getting hysterical on me; I don't have any benzodiazepine, here, and I _certainly_ couldn't reach you if I did."

"I-I…"

"Mmph…Christine, listen to me. Damn, I know I'm a cynical, pessimistic old man, but don't listen to me."

"…w-what?"

"I mean…ah, dammit! I _mean_, I don't care what I told you before; we're getting out of this. The rain's making the ropes slick. They'll get looser, if you just work on it some. Now see if you can reach my hand. We'll meet halfway."

"M'kay…"

"See there? Wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No…"

"Good, now keep on like that and we'll be out of this mess before nightfall."

"You're still holding my hand."

"So I am."

"What's the scar from? …on your palm?"

"Mm? Oh. Fell off a horse when I was four, and almost fell off a cliff."

"Ouch."

"Now there's an understatement. Lost a tooth to that rock, too. See?"

"Well, aren't you full of adventure. What about the one on your arm?"

"Oh, yeah. Spent about half my life in a hospital _before_ I became a doctor. That one? That's a bit less exciting. I tripped into a glass case in a bar in Omaha. That one, there, though—I was performing surgery on an angry Andorian in a shuttlecraft without any anesthetic; he up and stabbed me in the arm with my own scalpel."

"I see."

"It's not so funny when you're the one with a surgical knife sticking in you."

"You're laughing, too."

"Only because I remember what his face looked like when I pulled it out and said 'oh, thanks, that's exactly the one I was looking for.' "

"Oh, you're clever. I'm pretty sure I just might have pulled it out and stabbed him back."

"Believe me, I wanted to."

"I'm sure the look on his face made up for it. Oh, my God, I can move my legs!"

"…Christine, do you love him?"

"Do I…what?"

"That kid you were talking about. Do you—oomph. Uhmm, Christine, congratulations on getting yourself untied, but…mmph, did you have to fall into me?"

"I'm so sorry, my leg is asleep! Are you okay?"

"Just peachy. As long as you're going to hang off of me, why not help me?"

"O-okay. …yes. Yes, I do. I love him. God…I love him."

"…ah."

"Leonard…it—"

"Alright, so now that we're both untied let's get the hell outta this rain before something finds us here. Do we have a med kit, Nurse Chapel?"

"Wh…yes, we do, but Leonard—"

"Good. I expect to treat these rope burns once we find some kind of shelter."

"That's fine, but—"

"Do you have a phaser, Nurse Chapel?"

"No, they took mine too. Look, I—"

"Do you have a compass?"

"No, I don't. Would you—"

"A flashlight?"

"Maybe. Yes. Here. Len—"

"Any idea what direc—"

"Leonard McCoy, would you listen to me, Goddammit?"

"_Jesus_, Chapel. What?"

"It's Christine. You had no problem calling me Christine before—why now?"

"Fair enough. _What_, Christine?"

"I-I don't know…how to say it, but…I mean…well—Oh my God, there's a spider on your shoulder!"

"What? Argh! God _damn_. That was the biggest damn bug in the history of—"

"Okay, it's gone! Can I finish?"

"Go on."

"…I love you."

"_W-what?_"

"I _love_ you, dammit! You! It's you!"

"…oh. Oh. _Oh_."

"I know. I'm so stupid, and it's not right because you're my colleague and my boss, and I know it's probably hard for you to believe that after I said I loved Spock and here I am saying I don't and probably never did, and I know I must sound like some bumbling, confused child, and oh, _God_, I'm rambling, and I know this is the absolute _worst_ time I could spring this on you and I'm sorry but I was just so sure we were dead and now we're not and we're _here_ and you asked me all those questions and I didn't know what to do, and…and…"

"…_dammit_, Christine, _why_? Why _now_?"

"I know, I'm so sorry!"

"No…no, I mean, why not _sooner_?"

"…what?"

"Christine…ohh, I've loved you ever since you walked in that first day and told me to 'keep your damn mouth to yourself of kindly go to hell, _Sir_.' "

"You…have?"

"Fiercely."

"…then…why didn't you…"

"Spock."

"…oh."

"Yeah. Pointy-eared bastard."

"…aren't you going to kiss me?"

"With pleasure."

"Mm…so are you going to 'rough' yourself up for touching your best nurse?"

"Well…I dunno about me, but _you_ can rough me up all you want."

"You must treat me like a lady, now."

"Mm…should I take off my shirt and lay it on the ground, so you don't have to step in the mud?"

"Unless your shirt is sixty miles long and fifty acres wide, don't bother. But you can carry me."

"That, I can do. I may be a doctor, but prince charming doesn't sound like a bad hobby."


End file.
